


Irenic

by orphan_account



Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: Angst, Hospitalization, M/M, a lot of bad things will happen to paul, cynthia is not interested, everyone works at the hospital, george harrison is so cute, john and cynthia aren’t married in this one, paul gets kidnapped, paul is fucked up in the head, paul’s in danger, ringo starr is sick of everyone’s shit, the mafia exist, there’s a lot of original characters but it will add onto the plot, unexpected updates i guess
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-23
Updated: 2019-12-06
Packaged: 2020-12-31 19:35:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 20,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21151064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: After a fatal car crash, The Walton Centre; is admitted a famous patient. Paul Mccartney, the son of a chocolate factory owner. John Lennon is required to watch over Paul until he fully recovers, throughout the overseeing - John and Paul fall deeply in love with each other. Seemingly, they were were unprepared for the various obstacles heading their way.





	1. Chapter 1

Head-on collision. Whoever it was, the staff had entirely felt bad for them. One is in critical condition, and the other victim's girlfriend had perished in the seat next to the driver's side. Glass, sharp at the end, impaled her only just a few meters away from her heart but still intruding a major artery in her chest. —

** _Victim 1: James Paul Mccartney. _ **

** _Partners: Jane Asher — Deceased — _ **

"Fuck."

** _Age: Twenty one. _ **

"He's too young, Jesus." 

** _Status: Recently fair/moderate — not progressing. _ **

"Damn son, got to fix you up." 

** _Birth: June 18th 1942 _ **

** _Father: James Paul Mccartney Sr. _ **

** _Mother: Mary Mccartney_ **

** _Address: 20 Forthlin Road, Allerton, Liverpool, England, United Kingdom _ **

"A fellow Liverpudlian." 

"John do you usually talk to yourself while analyzing our patients information?" Richard asked, as he leaned against the front desk in the crowded waiting room. 

John looked up deadpanned at Richard through his eyelashes, and shook his head before closing the booklet he had received a few minutes ago. "This one is appealing, name's James and he's from Liverpool." 

This captured Richard's sea blue eyes, "Son of a Mccartney?" 

"Says it in here." John repetitively tapped the pad of his fingertips against the cover of the booklet. "Why what about it?" 

"They run a chocolate factory! They're one of the richest people in town!" 

John tilted his head to the side, and furrowed his eyebrows in subtle diffidence. After a few lingering thoughts, John flew the booklet opened and reanalyzed the patient's address. "If he's rich then why does he live in Liverpool?" John asked, trying to stifle down a laugh that was slowly rising up his spine. 

"Cover address, everyone has it." 

"Sure Ringo." John hastily replied with a roll of his eyes at his mate, Richard only scrunched up his obnoxious nose and continued his mopping. John lingered his eyes on him for a few seconds, and then reached over next to him to pull over the second booklet of the other victim. 

** _Victim 2: Randolph Peter Best _ **

** _Partners: Lizzy Historia _ **

** _Age: 21_ **

"Same age."

** _Status: Deceased _ **

"Yikes." 

** _Birth: November 24th 1941 _ **

** _Death: November 9th 1963 _ **

** _Father: Unknown_ **

"Ha, same kiddo." 

** _Mother: Unknown _ **

John blinked, he ran into a patient of unknown fathers several times before and those cases were always a hassle. 

** _Address: Unknown_ **

"Cynthia!" John called out, standing up in his swivel chair and excusing himself from the nurses that were on the phone, scheduling different appointments for people. John ambled towards the golden haired beauty perched up against the wall, talking to a fellow nurse animatedly with her hands adorably swaying around. John exhaled, stopped in his tracks and threaded his fingers compassionately through his own hair, then presumed his marching. 

"Sorry to interrupt ladies, but um- I was wondering if uh- if-" John was tongue tied, understandingly from the way Cynthia almost purposely tucked strands of her blonde hair behind her ears and gazed up at the taller man. Fuck. John snapped back into his mojo, and cleared his throat. 

"What is it Doctor John?" Cynthia's milky smooth voice did something unexplainable to John. 

"I- can you try and dig more information up that is possible for him? I mean Randolph- I mean the car crash victim." John mentally facepalmed himself, and tried to restart his whole sentence while his cheeks burnt at the giggling ladies in front of him. 

An arm was thrown around his neck, and sudden weight was causally leant against the side of his body. "Hey nurse Cyn. Hey nurse Olivia." George greeted resting his body weight all on John, the older man rolled his eyes as George charmingly winked over towards Olivia who giggled gingerly into her palm. 

"Bug off George, shouldn't you be downstairs in the Linens?" 

"Yeah well Doc, it's my hour break." 

Cynthia cleared her throat. "I'll look through Mister Best's files for you Doctor Lennon." With that, she approached a mildly annoyed John and took the booklet from his hands. 

George laughed at the scowl on John's face before approaching Olivia, the lad presented her a smirk in which she hid the resulting blush by bringing her coffee mug up to her lips. 

John however hesitated to let the booklet go, and stepped closer to Cynthia. "Um- do you mind if we could go out again tonight? Or whenever you're free?"

"Then get stood up by you again? No thanks Doctor." Cynthia cheesed, while her eyes became dopey with the same hurt look on her face she had after the catastrophic night. 

"I sent you flowers afterwards."

Cynthia shook her head, and swiped the booklet smoothly from within John's weakening grasp. "They were dying anyways Doctor, but it was a nice effort of you to make up that I was literally sitting in a restaurant with my food untouched so that I could wait for you to also join me." The blonde coolly spoke, obviously not comfortable with talking about that night and it sent streaks of guilt up John's body. 

Before John could speak, she turned away and walked towards the desk at the other side.

He could have sworn she was swaying her hips purposely. _'Just one night with that woman,' _John pleaded to himself, tugging his bottom lip underneath the top row of his teeth to chew on. 

"Way out of your league Lennon, plus you're not getting credit for eyeing down Miss Powell. Are you?" 

"Well beep beep Ritchie, you're not getting credit for snooping on me all the time are you." John smiled, still facing Cynthia's direction and watching as she leaned over the counter to converse with the receptionist, handing the booklet over to her. 

Richard grumbled something, "Barely getting anything at all out of this job." 

John snorted, "Aren't we all?" 

•••

When Brian Epstein came by, John immediately disengaged himself from his notebook of doodles, and then began carelessly checking the newly updated list of patients. 

"Everyone, we have a meeting, gather up in the conference room!" 

"Always a meeting eh?" Cynthia asked, while she squeezed next to John as everyone nurse and doctor filed into the conference room. 

"You know how Eppy is." 

Cynthia shrugged, sliding a piece of gum into her mouth. John precariously watched at the side of his eye as she ran her tongue along her lips, before glancing back towards Brian who sat down majestically at the table placed in the middle of the room. For an odd reason, everyone else stood up instead of sitting down in the several seats available on each side. 

"We have a big name registered in the hospital, third floor and in the ninth room down the hall. As you all may know, belongs to James Mccartney. The Mccartney's are the richest people in town, and they'd give this hospital big revenue." 

A guy whose name was Ethan spoke up enthusiastically, "Are we all going to be rich?"

"No." 

Ethan's smile was immediately swiped from his face, and the back of his head was nudged harshly. 

"If we're lucky though, he's worth millions. Right now, he's in dyer need of personal medical assistance due to his fatal car crash. Are any of you up for it?" 

John looked around as everyone's hands became raised, the man didn't even try to raise his hand, knowing that he absolutely would not be picked. 

"Uh, okay, okay— Lyle how about you? You're good with a lot of patients." 

Slicked back, redhead, freckle riddled Lyle put on a wide smile. "Yeah, I can handle him.Does that mean I get extra pay?" 

"Maybe." 

Everyone in the room made a unison sound that resembled a gasp, and a few curses were thrown about. Brian laughed, and snorted as he shook his head. "Nope, same pay as any other patient." 

John smacked his lips, and crossed his arms as he spoke up. "How do we know if James uses the same insurance as the rest of his family?" 

"Why wouldn't they?" Aaron asked from the back, and gave John a demeaning stare as if he was dumb. 

"He's over eighteen, it's a possibility he could have his own insurance." Karen agreed, while glancing back at Brian for any further assurance on that matter. 

"No, he uses the same insurance. Trust me. It's maxed out." 

"Why are we worrying about this boy's money? He was in a car accident for God-sake! His girlfriend is dead and it killed someone else. I swear this hospital could be so insensitive!" Todd exclaimed, as he crossed his arms and dramatically shook his head in shame. 

"We're getting paid to wash his sheets, hospital gowns and feed him food. I mean, none of us are doing that for free Todd." John said, while staring deadpanned at the younger red haired gentlemen. 

"Can we all just be happy for me?" Lyle asked, obviously done with the conversation. 

"I don't like you first of all." Todd said, while turning his gaze over towards Lyle for a moment, and then going back to looking towards me. 

Brian was gracefully enjoying the show that was going on, but deep down he wondered about that Mccartney boy on the third floor. What if Lyle wasn't actually the right pick?

“I didn’t ask for you to like me, I asked for you to be happy.” 

Todd kissed his teeth, holding back the rest of the words he was going to pour out from his mouth. “Just take care of the damn bloke, can you?”

•••


	2. Chapter 2

That evening, when it was John's time to take off, the man almost fell asleep with his car still on in a closed garage. Singlehandedly, after running himself a hot bath and caressing about five of the different breed of cats he had running wild in his condo, John was in his homemade art studio.

Art and music pulled John in firsthand, his first aspiration was to become a musician. Second one was an artist, then something that resembled a movie producer but he would have known with that career it'd take a few more years. John just became a doctor because he was bored, simply it was just that. Aced his college classes, picked his major and shrugged it off like it was nothing. John's aunt Mimi relished in the career path although, and John was keen to admitting that being a doctor isn't all that bad — even though he would have loved being the next Elvis Presley — it was better than becoming an entrepreneur of a chocolate factory. 

John calmly exhaled, finishing the latest piece he'd been working on for about two months. What a particular sketch it was; one naked man holding a baby sheep against his bare chest back in the renaissance from the dangling cloths of fragments on his skin which resembled something of a sacred scarf. John took a step back, and pictured himself as a specific viewer who wouldn't know what the actual fuck was happening in the sketch. 

John headed out of the art studio, and trudged over down the foyer to his bedroom. The man had thought to himself, wondering if he should phone Cynthia and ask her for another chance to bring her out, this time promising not to harm her self esteem more than it already is harmed. 

The thought of that woman almost made John's knees buckle. 

Just as he was about to punch in Cynthia's number, his mind suddenly transferred into pizza. "God I'm so hungry." John self loathingly muttered, placing his hand against his stomach which had growled almost on cue. 

— "Hello?" George asked, as he ate his bowl of beans and held the phone against his neck with the use of his shoulder. 

"Georgie, it's Ringo." 

"Dig the nickname eh? Fits your nose Ringo." George smiled to himself at how a gentle laugh came from the other line of the phone. 

"Yeah, so you know that Mccartney bloke in our hospital?" 

"Yeah, what about him?" 

Ringo shifted for a bit, George had just noticed the uneasiness without having to see it. "Rings?" 

"He's giving Lyle a hard time I heard."

George snorted, "How? They just got together. Plus, literally every patient adores Lyle."

"Not this one mate. Lyle gave up the job under an hour, that's the weird part." 

George softly chuckled, and imagined Lyle scurrying down the hall because of just one patient. "Damn, that's tragic. Who's watching over him now?" 

"Brian's calling another meeting tomorrow morning, and this time it's critical." 

George continued to eat on his beans, "Too snobby for poor old Lyle huh?" 

Richard's tone did a unforeseen shift. "Yeah, but we're not getting paid enough to babysit a stubborn rich kid."

George shrugged as if Ritchie could see him, and thought back to when James was anonymously rushed into the hospital. ECT's basically draping themselves all over him, and no one had the chance to catch a peak towards the twenty-one year old. The female nurses were in hives though, talking about how young he looks and asking around whether if he was a kid or not. John, George and Richard were all unbothered nonetheless, just a regular car accident victim. 

Until the two fatalities were suddenly brung up, almost immediately after the news broke out; it was the talk of the hospital. Now a week later, the young man made somewhat of a moderate recovery opposing from the critical condition he was in when he had arrived here. 

"I don't know Ringo, heard his girlfriend died in the car when it crashed. Then the person that he crashed into him was dead too, he probably thinks he killed him." George said, somewhat defending the poor lad as he tried to imagine himself in his position.

"You're right, but still, at least cooperate."

George shrugged again, swallowing the rest of his food down. "Guess so Ritchie, I'm knackered though. Someone pissed on the bloody sheets, had to rewash it several times." 

"This gritty hospital needs new washers, I tried to tell the CEO, he said just take the sheets home and wash them yourselves." 

George's expression was priceless if caught on camera. "To hell with that. I'm not washing someone's piss off in my own washer machine." 

Richard's laugh filled George's ears, "Do you have a choice?"

George thought about it, and apprehensively exhaled. "Maybe, maybe not. I want to try music though." 

"You could play?"

"Taught my own self how to play the bloody guitar, but I need someone with experience to tell me if I'm good or not." 

"Would you drop out of the job for music or.."

George thought about this, "Yeah. Tired of this shit." 

"Don't leave me. M'nuthin but a stray." 

George smiled to himself, picturing Ringo's puppy dog eyes and a mock pouty expression. "I won't leave you Ritchie, you know that."

"I'm just taking the piss out of ya. I would miss you though if you ever leave. That goes for you and John."

George felt himself blush a bit, and he played with that one string that poked out in the middle of his pants. "I- I'll miss you too Ringo." 

———

John clocked himself in at the front desk, letting his eyes longer fondly at Cynthia who was on the phone with someone. She slowly looked up at him, while scheduling an appointment on the phone. John winked at her, causing the blonde to roll her eyes and reach over to the stack of papers on her side, handing it to John. 

After swiping them gracefully from the gentle hands, John headed over towards his own doctor's office. The man closed the door, and plopped down in his spinning chair while opening up the packet to be bombarded by new and upgraded information of Randolph Best. 

** _Place of birth: Madras, India _ **

"Oh shit." John blinked and his eyes widened in astonishment, and looked at the few photographs of the boy as a child. 

** _Raised: Liverpool, England, United Kingdom _ **

** _Mother: Mohna — Unknown last name _ **

** _Father: Unknown _ **

John scratched his cheek, and propped his feet up on his desk. "This guy is a mystery." 

A knock on his door resounded across the room, and John has stood up to answer it. "Just sat down, whom is it?" 

"It's me." Olivia said, while rubbing hand sanitizer against her hands. John shoved his hands into his pockets, and arched an eyebrow as he gazed down at the young woman. "Brian wants to see you." 

"God what is it now?" 

She shrugged, "And then afterwards we got two kids with influenza symptoms scheduled to see you."

John huffed, and pushed his weight off of the door. It's like he had several different jobs here, which everyone had but it could get annoying sometimes. John thanked Olivia, and politely nodded her off while he trekked into Brian's office. John smirked at Brian and sat down at the side of his desk, quickly grasping at the marbles before the older man could say anything. 

"What is it Eppy?" 

"Could you watch over James Mccartney?"

John's smile dropped, and he exhaled in clear agitation. "What? Then turn out like Lyle? I'm not dealing with a pompous brat, you know I almost got booted last time with those type of people. An old hag, almost near death trying to tell me how to make his bed, almost broke his spine, I did." 

"John please, no one else wants to and he needs assistance." 

John purposely, for his own sake, avoided Brian's pestering gaze, "No. I don't care." 

"John you can't just refuse. Don't make me get the CEO, plus you won't have to do anything else but just treat him." 

"Why now? He's been in this hell hole for a week and suddenly he needs attention? Did he request for it?" John suddenly asked, visibly irritated with the whole situation. 

"No. It's just required John." Brian sighed, and fiddled with his stethoscope. "Listen, he's messed up in the head."

John sighed, "Me too Brian. I don't know how to take care of someone like that. Especially since I don't have any control over what I went through." 

"Maybe you'll both relate to each other. Record says he lost his mother when he was fourteen, and you most y-"

John immediately scowled, and aggressively chucked a marble at Brian to cut him off. _"Yes I get it." _

"Give him a chance John." 

"Whatever Eppy. This paycheck better be worth it." 

———

John walked into the room, seeing two sickly pale kids who looked near death. With a inaudible curse word flinging itself out of his mouth, John pulled up his nitrile, latex and vinyl gloves. 

Their mother, pretty and bright eyed looked at John worriedly. "They can't even eat, this disastrous flu is driving them mad." 

John checked both of their temperatures, blatantly ignoring the mother. "Right, so both of them have high fevers. It's good that you brought them here, they need to be admitted because clearly there's no fluid in them."

"They won't drink any water, I'm sorry doctor." 

John took off his stethoscope, letting it hang around his neck as he helped the boys down. After a few seconds of shamefully glaring at the fidgeting mother, noting that his patience was already wearing thin, John exhaled. "Wait here." 

With a nod, John took off and met up with George who was pushing a cart full of clean sheets down the hall. "George, could you find a doctor for that patient in the room over there?" John asked hurriedly, while his eyes bore into the confused facial expression on George's face. 

"Why not you?"

"I got to watch over James handicapped ass Mccartney." John spat, his anger rising graciously as annoyance covered his usual aura. "Just do it."

George noticed John’s rising anger, and felt his chest tighten in small anxiety. "Okie dokie." 

John ran a hand through his hair, quickly looking back at Cynthia who swiftly passed by. "Cyn-"

Cynthia immediately whirled around, and looked up at him. "Yes?" 

God, those eyes will be the death of him someday. John licked his lips, "Can you watch James for me? I really don't want to do it."

Cynthia blinked, and looked understandingly confused. "Y-You have to doctor, I can't do it for you or we'll both get in trouble and I can't afford that." 

“But-”

”John, please don’t make me do this. I’m pretty sure you got this job for a reason.” Cynthia said, placing her hand gently on John’s forearm which made a sensational tingle of desperation shower over John.

John glanced towards the direction of Brian's office, and exhaled before tightening his hospital gown around his body. "Right, right." 

John promenaded towards the elevator, whipping out his watch and checking the time. His other hand tapped impatiently against the button, and his eyes were distractedly glancing down at the time. In just a few more minutes he was allowed to go break, and he wouldn't have to worry about James. John never understood this locked up, tormented, negligent, feeling against this one patient. It seemed to just have happened, and it was uncontrollably raging on inside of his system. 

John stepped out on the third floor, and shoved his hands in his pockets as he nodded towards the staff gathered at the desk. After brushing his hair back, John smiled charismatically. "Evening gals."

"Evening. Here for Mccartney?" A new receptionist named Sabrina asked, while smiling dreamily at the handsome auburn haired doctor. 

“How did you naughty girls know?” John smirked, making the other girl who sat next to Sabrina giggle into her palm and blush. 

“Brian rang me up, told me you were on your way.” 

John blinked, and clenched his jaw somewhat. Ah, he basically had no choice in this debate. 

"Unfortunately."

"Aww, he's not that bad." 

"You know me Sabrina, I'm picky." John smirked, and turned towards one of the booked rooms. ‘_Alright, number nine, number nine,’ _John repeater in his head, walking down the hallway to the particular room.

•••


	3. Chapter 3

"Good luck."

"Why?" John jadedly asked, throwing a stick of gum into his mouth. 

Richard laughed, and stopped his sweeping. "Lyle couldn't even stand with that guy for under an hour, and the staff said he came out all discombobulated." 

"Not wise to talk about it in front of his door." John cheesed, and wrapped his hand around the doorknob. "I'll talk to you later about it. Tell Brian that I want my paycheck risen." 

"Alright." Richard laughed, and lingered a bit as John opened up the door. 

First thing he realized is that the room was unreasonably cold, and it made John eyebrows furrowed. "The hell?" He murmured, flickering the switch that would turn off the air conditioner. 

"Who is that?" A soft voice caught his attention, and John looked up to see a sight that almost punched the breath out of his lungs. 

With the hospital bed placed against the window, there sat a man in all white medical pajamas. Dark brown hair swayed against the front of his face, and with one hand drawing it to the back — John caught a glimpse of the perfectly sculpted nose, cupid bow and deliciously plump pink colored lips that was formed into a natural pout. Pools of hazel colored doe eyes, and long lavished eyelashes that were long enough, it could effortlessly reach the clouds. Irresistible squeezable baby cheeks that made him look even younger than the report had said, on the right cheek there had been a band aid placed on it. 

John forgot to _breathe_. 

"Uh- I'm Doctor Lennon, I was put in charge of looking after you." 

Paul only tiredly stared, and quietly nodded. "Are you going to run away from me?” 

John snorted, "Only if you give me a hard time."

Paul kept a straight face though, turning his head back out of the window. It was at this moment, John noticed that he was clutching onto a necklace of some sort. He didn't feel it was right to ask, so instead he already made his way towards the window and noticed it was opened. Okay, maybe he likes the cold. 

"Aren't you cold kid?" 

Paul's face suddenly hardened and his breathing grew heavy as rage shot through his bloodstream. John couldn't help but to shrink back as Paul's gaze went stone. "M'not a fucking kid." 

"Okay, okay I'm sorry Mister Mccartney." 

"Don't call me that either." 

John frowned, and stared longingly at the trembling short fused man in the bed in front of him. "Then what do you want me to call you?"

"Paul."

"Just Paul?"

He nodded, and sniffed as if he was about to cry. John's mouth dropped open, feeling uncomfortable at whatever just happened. "Did I do something wrong k- Paul?" 

Paul just shook his head, laying himself back down flat on the bed and burying his face into the pillow. John awkwardly walked over towards the opened window and gently slid it closed, not wanting Paul to catch a cold from the chilled weather swarming throughout the cracked window. The sounds of Paul crying uncontrollably was not exactly chilling, but it reminded John that he was not alone in the room when he decided to sit down in the corner and grasp a magazine from the side table. 

Jesus, what the fuck did Brian get him into? John huffed silently, and ran his hand down his face as the crying to seemed to have gotten louder. 'Lyle couldn't take any crying huh? I understand now,' John exhaled and tried his best to keep himself in control for the sake of his job. 

Soon enough, after another irritating and awkward fifteen minutes, Paul had cried himself to sleep. John checked his watch, and looked over towards the sunlit window wondering if Paul would sleep through the day. John felt suddenly relaxed by that estimation, but he truly doubted it. 

John walked over towards the younger gentlemen, and awkwardly shifted him to his backside which made the limp bodied man face him. John had never seen anyone so rare, so sufficient looking, and absolutely beautiful. A child of a rich entrepreneur that runs the most popular chocolate business in the United Kingdom? In this hospital? John thought to himself about the luck this hospital goes through from time-to-time. Although they were facing bankruptcy several times, something miraculous always conspired. 

John grasped at the necklace that laid beside of Paul's thighs, still clenched in his first but the grip softened from his state of sleep. 

"What'cha got here Paul?" John asked lightly under his breath to himself, opening the locket in the middle. 

A picture of Paul and a red headed beauty who was wrapped up in his arms was revealed, they seemed to have been located in a place with a lot of snow in the background, most likely Chamonix, France. A strand of her hair was also curled up against the picture as well, which meant that Paul either got it before or after the car crash. 

"Hm." John closed the locket, and placed it back to its spot on Paul's opened hand. 

A breathy gasp from John was stifled at the way their skins brushed against each other's, such small contact derived a powerful surge of electricity up John's spine. 

———

"Sabrina, have you've done screenings on James yet? The kid was crying his head off like a child earlier." John said, while leaning his upper half against curved desk that Sabrina sat in the back of. 

"We have actually, I could fax them over to you." 

"Thanks love." John purred, and rested patiently against the desk as she typed in Paul's information onto the computer. 

John proceeded to look around, catching his eyes onto George and another guy named Eric Griffins folding up dirty sheets to put in the barrel. John walked over towards the two, and snorted. "I bet you tarts hate your jobs."

"We do." They both said in unison, which caused John to cackle. 

"How's James?"

"He isn't that bad. Just cries a lot due to the trauma, but he- he looks like a fucking ten year old. I swear he looks so young, nothing near twenty-one years old." 

George rested a hand on his hip, "Probably why every bird was on his tail, crying, drooling and even screaming over him when he first got admitted."

"Is he as snobby as everyone says he is?" Eric curiously asked, throwing the dirty and reeking sheets into the barrel. 

"Well, I honestly have no idea. I mean- he did almost blow up at me for calling him a kid, it just flew out because he literally looks bloody ten. Then I called him Mister Mccartney and he didn't like that either. At the end he just told me to call im' Paul." 

Eric snorted, "Just Paul?" 

"Paul Mccartney." George pondered, "I guess it was because his father's name is James and he didn't want to mix it up." 

John shrugged, "Doesn't look like a James to me. Paul fits him well I admit. He's got a locket of his girlfriend too, and she was decent looking." 

"Not as beautiful as Cynthia huh?" Eric teased, and John just shoved him harshly in return making George laugh out loud. 

"Paul looks like a bird." John casually said, and glanced back at the direction where Paul's room was in. "He's got big ass eyes, needs a haircut, and eyelashes that could reach the ceiling." 

"Sounds like you're crushing over the lad." George smiled, knowing that John wouldn't be afraid to compliment and literally drool over another man. At first it earned him a few suspicious looks, but John certainly did not care if people judged him for whatever sexual orientation he was down with. At the end of the day, that was just John Lennon for you. 

"Maybe I am y'know." John laughed, and the contagious laugh made everyone else laugh too. 

They had then trekked over towards another room, and Eric got busy with the sheets while the patient was bathing in the loo. "Seriously though, the man's really a beauty. I thought I was going to run into a chubby dude with high knee socks, and a tight ass traditional suit on" 

"You sound like those nurses Johnny." 

John smiled at George, "Sod off, he almost made my knees buckle." 

George rolled his eyes, and turned towards his best mate. "You're always yearning for some bird or bloke. Remember Barbara? You called her horse face and thought she would go out with you." 

John opened his mouth to speak, but nothing really came out and it was an opened window opportunity for George to continue. "Then there was Craig, and once you found out he had a stutter you dropped him so fast, the poor lad was heart broken. He quit his job here for pete-sake." 

Eric snorted as he came back into view. "That's messed up John."

John only modestly shrugged, not even feeling remorse for dropping Craig off so soon. "It wasn't going to work out either way Georgie, the man's tongue was tied into a knot." 

"Then Margaret."

"Screw Margarita. I could care less about her, honest." John spat, eyes rolling as he thought about the time when she spent all the money in his card. 

"Thelma Pickles." 

"We had a one night stand." John quickly dismissed, not even remembering anything but laughing at her last name throughout their night together. 

"Cynthia Powell." George concluded, and crossed his arms as Eric put all the sheets into the barrel behind him. "You stood her up, but you're still chasing her like a chicken with its bloody head chopped off." 

John rolled his eyes, although his cheeks did burn with guilt and self-irritation at how he lost his only shot at Cynthia just because he was busy. Something within his mind told him that he would never have the experience to get into her knickers, and it'd be something he would only imagine. 

Later on, John had peeked inside of Paul's room again, this time with a lunch tray in his grasp. John paused for a bit, seeing that the boyish featured man was curled up in fetal position, teary eyes burning holes into the locket that was opened and revealing. Not knowing what to say, John placed the tray down onto the little table and rolled it over towards Paul's bed. "Alright Paul, it's time for lunch."

Paul shifted his leg, and hoisted it up so that his foot purposely knocked against the table which made it roll back to its spot. "I'm not hungry." 

_Here we go. _

John walked back over towards the table, and settled it back towards the bed. He had almost found himself doubling over in laughter at the inscrutable expression on Paul's face, the man sat up on his elbow and stared upwards, literally glazed at John. John stared back with just as much intensity, and parted his lips; "If you don't eat you'll just-"

Paul swiped the lunch tray off of the table towards John's direction, and got up to kick over the tray before turning towards John. "I said I'm not hungry you fucking bastard!" He angrily caterwauled, with his balance becoming evidently weakened from the swift movements. 

John, who stared in genuine dismay at the mess scattered across the floor, backed up as Paul collapsed onto the floor and heaved up tears. Should he leave? It wouldn't be right if he did, and it would be strangely awkward if he stayed to watch this obviously shaken man cry on the floor. 

"Fuck," John uneasily muttered to himself, and leaned down to hook his hands under Paul's arms. "Alright, alright come on, get up." He said, hoisting the young man up carefully onto his feet and gulping at the lightness of his body. 

"I can't believe- she's dead- this is my fault. This is all my fault." 

John's lips were in a tight line as he helped Paul over back towards the bed, and sat him back down. "Calm down, breathe for me okay? It's not your fault." 

Paul looked up at John through his shaggy bangs, and he let the trembling hand of John push his hair back. The way John tenderly caressed his uninjured cheek made Paul tremble in innominate delight. "I can't believe she's gone, I-I can't believe it." 

How disbelieving Paul had seemed about the whole catastrophe made a knot form in John's throat. He remembered being the same way about Julia, and how he thought it was his fault when it wasn't, it really shook him just as bad. 

"I know how it feels, lost my mother couple of years back, a car hit her. That's the worst pain you could ever endure, just know that I'm here for you alright? I'm sure Jane would—" John's breath hitched from how Paul squeezed and clanged onto the front of John's suit from the sound of her name. "I'm sure she would want you to eat though, and not put yourself through this pain, she'd want you to live, tell the stories about you two together. How would that sound Macca?"

John absolutely didn't know where the nickname came from, but it just slipped out in the heat of the moment. Paul did not seem to mind it though, and that was enough for John. After a few seconds of quizzical staring on Paul's part, the younger had then nodded his head. "I don't want to eat here though, doesn't this hospital have a cafeteria?" 

•••


	4. Chapter 4

Jane's flowing red hair breezed in sync with the wind as the expensive jeep sped briskly down the road, her arms were crossed and the expression on her face was every touch of annoyed. "God James, you could be such a dits sometimes."

Paul sighed, and glanced over from the road to Jane. After a long second, he sighed and turned his mental attention over towards his fiancée. "What is it now Jane?"

Jane straightened her skirt against her legs, and turned towards the brunette. "At the very least, you could have told me where we're going, and you know how much I hate long trips." 

Paul tightened his grip on the steering wheel, and transitioned his gaze back on the road. From his peripheral vision, he could see that Jane was visibly frustrated but he concluded that there was nothing he could do about that fact. "We're almost there." Was all that Paul responded with, and tipped Jane off to the edge. 

"Wait a minute, James..where's your locket?" 

The sudden question caught Paul off guard, and he attempted to swallow down a spine chilling gulp. The way the locket rule worked with the two is that they could never take off their locket, it's a handcuff of commitment between the two of them that they both subtlety agreed that they would participate in. Paul decided enough was enough, and that the locket was getting in the way or from what his father said — was too distracting to the public. Paul had the locket in pocket, and he totally forgot to put it back on it he was within eye reach of Jane. 

Paul transitioned his frightened anxiety to casual smugness. "I took it off. If it isn't obvious." 

Jane's jaw clenched, and it seemed as if she was about to turn into a whole leveled up superwoman. Paul began to seek the audacity to whistle while Jane's anger, hurt and confusion began to ball up into a big ball of words. "Are you seriously whistling right now?! You fucking arsehole! I cant believe you would take it off, then send me on this boring fucking car ride!"

"Listen Jane, when we get there, I'll put it back on."

"No!" Jane squawked, and smacked Paul in the arm, which had knocked his hands off the wheel for a brief second. 

Almost within a few seconds, Paul hurriedly placed his hands back on the wheel, and adjusted his driving along with the rising annoyance building up in him too. "Could you willingly, calm the fuck down before you kill us?" The calm, and ever so soft voice triggered Jane to the fullest. 'This sorry, piece of shit.' Jane had thought to herself. 

Jane ignored his demand, "Can you explain to me why you're doing this?! Are you dropping me off somewhere? Are you breaking up with me?"

"Why would I break up with you if we're getting married?" 

"It can still happen dumb ass, it's called annulled marriage." Jane spat, and shoved Paul harshly against the door which made the car do another swerve. 

Paul's usually optimistic wondrous eyes transitioned into an angry dark, and he sped up unknowingly from jerking his foot down on the pedal. "Don't fucking touch me again Jane." 

"Or what? Are you and your rich family going to take everything away from me? Do you think I'm afraid of losing this?" Jane asked, swaying her hands around to prove her point by mentioning the lavish jeep they were in. "James, the only thing I was afraid of was losing you." 

"That's nice to know." Paul exhaled, agitated beyond lengths. "You're making too much of a big deal out of this Jane." 

"It was a sign of your commitment!" She harshly shoved his arm again. 

"It was a sign of both of our fucking commitment, and I told you I'll put it back on!" Paul grasped harshly at her wrist after she was about to throw another shove over at him. "Now like I said, stop fucking hitting me or I'll throw you out of this fucking car!" Paul finally snapped, and slapped her hand away from him which caused the wheel to spin out of control by the sudden movement. 

Jane froze at his outburst, and the last thing Paul saw was the hurt look in her teary eyes until something hard struck the front of his vehicle. 

•••

Paul's eyes opened slowly, and the steam shooting up his lungs as he took a breath caused him to cough violently. The bumper of the car was literally smoking, and everything was crushed — the first thing he could actually identify was the airbag mushed against his face. Different, screams could be heard around the two vehicles but Paul's ears were literally ringing and it was soundless for the last five minutes of him trying to congregate his surroundings. 

Every time Paul breathed, there was a sensation of a knife impaling his ribs. A stark feeling of fear rushed through his bloodstream, but he felt absolutely discombobulated to properly react to it. Paul awkwardly twisted his body around in his seat, "Jane?" He groggily called out, lifting his hand to his bleeding head while he tried to take in as many breaths as possible. 

Paul's head eventually fell to the side, and what he faced as absolutely an horrendous. Jane had a glass shard pierced directly into her chest, and her head was fallen back against the seat — whiplash completely inevitable. Her neck had to be broken. Her eyes were closed, and her industrious hair was all in her face while two droplets of blood drawled down the corner of her mouth to her chin and jawline. Jane's eyes were peacefully closed, and for a moment it had seemed to Paul that she was just sleeping. Paul blinked for a few seconds, and everything came back to him as he continued to stare at Jane's lifeless body. 

Paul immediately unbuckled his seatbelt, and swiped residue of windshield glass from himself while he climbed over the armrest. "Jane? J-Jane wake up, let's get out of here." His voice was shaking, heavy and wheezing as he carefully unbuckled Jane's seatbelt. Grasping at her arm, the way her head limply fell forward was enough for the young man to jolt back a bit, igniting an unpleasant burn in his ribs but he ignored it. 

Paul's throat went dry, and his eyes widened even more than they already were. Recollecting his thoughts, he noticed how pale Jane was adding onto her stillness. 'Fuck,' Paul thought, placing his palm on her shoulder blade. "Jane?! No! No! Jane, baby, wake up!" 

Jane hadn't moved, she was far away from consciousness nor was she breathing. Paul had never felt so scared, worried and angry at everything on the world. 

Paul's thoughts were running loudly through his head like a freight train, and he couldn't even hear himself scream Jane's name. The furious pumping of his heartbeat was the only sound he could hear. The front of the car made a groaning noise, crushing in on Paul's leg which caused the man to jerk his legs upwards and wince a bit at the vast movements. 

Paul's trembling hands cupped Jane's cheek, lifting her face up so that he could get a good last look of her before he could black out. 

His vision blurred, and the car made a steaming noise which signaled Paul that he was in grave danger. Paul's mind was delayed, and his bottom lip trembled uncontrollably as he smoothed his violently trembling hand over Jane's cheek. 

"Jane? Open your eyes, please, Jane!" Paul felt himself slipping, not even hearing himself. Goosebumps shot up his skin, and he couldn't even tell if it was cold or hot outside from the fast decreasing body temperature of his own body. 

Paul wrapped his arms around her cold, limp and pale body, shaking violently as his body lost all control. The ear piercing scream he made was unhinged and it ripped out of his throat, mentally and permanently traumatizing anyone near the accident, and making heads turn immediately towards one of the cars. 

"Someone help!" Paul cried, hot scalding tears pursuing their way down his cut cheek. He rocked back and forth, Jane's face smoldered into the crook of his neck as he sobbed uncontrollably. 

"Jane, I'm so sorry, please come back, I'm sorry, I love you so much." Paul quickly whispered to her, running his fingers through the blood red hair as he hyperventilated. 

Although his body hadn't seem to endure that much physical damage, Paul eventually went into severe shock and the ECT's were already quick on him. Labeling his condition critical, and rushing him to the nearest hospital. 

———

John's hand was clasped over his mouth as he read through Paul's documents, that was faxed over to him by Sabrina, in his home office. The wicked shock on his face was a moment for the books, and it made him sit back in respective silence. 

"Damn, I'd be messed up too." John mumbled to himself, running his palm down his face as he dialed the number to George's home. 

George picked up after several rings, "Hello?"

John was quiet for a bit, trying to regather himself. After inhaling, and exhaling softly — John began to speak up. "I got new information on Paul." 

"Really? Spill it out." 

"Right so apparently before the crash, Jane and Paul were having a quarrel. In her autopsy the other day, it said she was under major stress that was related with anger. Paul was too. So I'm guessing they were fighting or something." 

"Damn, fights before someone's death will always haunt you." George said solemnly, which made John quickly nod his head as if the younger lad could see him. "What else happened?"

John reread the lines on the document, "George he was inconsolable, they had to sedate him on the scene. Jane died from broken neck, and a punctured artery along with a head injury since her airbag didn't inflate in time. They tried to revive her but it was too late." 

"That was the passenger that was killed next to him right?" 

"Spot on. They were fiancés actually, scheduled to get married in Japan spring of next year." 

John felt his stomach tie into a knot, thinking about Paul crying uncontrollably earlier and he felt guilty for being so ignorant, feeling annoyed at the boy for crying so much. John was the same way when he found out his mother was killed, he was literally inconsolable. 

"He needs therapy." George stated, voice firm and worried. "What about the Best family?"

"There's not much on them. Pete died from suffocation since his car reeked of gas, and there was a lot of smoke. Everyone was lucky that there was a bloody explosion." 

"Pete?"

"Yeah, Pete's more easier to slither out." John said, placing the documents back on his desk before standing up. "Anyways, Paul thinks that it's his fault because of the crash."

"Well, is it? Obviously he was distracted from the argument they were having. I mean- we may have to pin it on Jane." 

John immediately cringed at the thought, "No, no. Let's just leave that for the police." 

"The police would question him anyways about the matter, they'd think he was being reckless and then Paul would get charged for murder. Boom, he's in prison, boom the chocolate factory is shut down." 

John tiredly chuckled, "Well let them at least investigate detective Harrison." 

"Really though, I think Paul needs someone to talk to right now. His mind is probably fucked." George said, revering back to their actual conversation. "I know my mind would be too."

"It says that he does have mental trauma, and PTSD, then there's psychological trauma. All from the accident." John said, while he exited out of his office and headed towards his room. 

"Jesus." 

———

The next morning, John had parked himself in front of Richard who was conversing with Sabrina, and somewhat urgently tapped on his forearm. The blue eyed man politely bid farewell to Sabrina and turned around to face him. "What is it John?" 

John basically dragged poor Richard over to the conference room, and paced around . "Ringo I need help." 

"What's wrong? Don't tell me to watch over James, because John I swear-"

John shook his head, "No. It's something else. I need you to try and help me with his dad though, they checked in to see him. I barely know how to interact with the boy in general. Brian wants me to talk with his dad as if I know what I'm doing." 

Richard's face contorted into a pitiful expression for John and he quickly nodded, "Ill help you out John."

John entered Paul's room silently, and became deeply involved with one of the magazines again. After his late night read about the car crash, John felt even more uncomfortable with watching Paul Mccartney. As John was entering into the room, from his peripheral vision Paul was busy staring silently at the ceiling, fists tightened around the bedsheets and jaw clenched as if he was angry. 

One glance at Paul and John was literally shitting himself. How is he ever going to interact with him? The last time he did, Paul was in tears while eating the undercooked food in the cafeteria and John just sat there awkwardly, literally just watching him eat up while tears sprinkled down his face like a public water fountain. 

John sat down in his chair, leaning back and unknowingly exhaling as he tried to get himself to relax. 

"You can talk to me you know, it would be nice to talk to someone other than myself." 

John licked his lips, stomach doing a ninety degree turn but he refused to let it be obvious to the younger man. "Just don't know what to say."

"Ask me how Joe is."

John's eyebrows furrowed, and he lifted his head up to look towards Paul's direction. "Who's Joe?"

"Joe mama." 

It took John several seconds to get it, and during those few seconds that passed by; Paul was laughing his ass off. John gingerly watched as the young man laughed manically, high pitched hyena resembled cackles filling up the usually quiet room. 

When Paul's laugh ceased into high pitched giggles, John cleared his throat. "You alright?" 

"No."

"What's wrong?" 

Paul hesitated, sitting up on his bandaged palms to look over at John. "Come here.."

John nodded, getting up and strolling towards Paul to sit down at the side of his bed. "What is it?" 

"Can you- um hold me? Like you did before?" 

John felt the wind knock air out of his lungs, and he couldn't help but to hesitate on doing this request. John cleared his throat, and scooted closer to Paul, snaking his arm around his shoulder to the pull him closer. If he did hold him like he did beforehand than he would get in serious trouble with hospital policy, and the security would think that he would be fondling a patient which was not a good look on his already bad report. 

Paul sighed, and wrapped his arms around John's lower torso which made him pull the older man closer. John's jaw became unhinged, and he awkwardly shifted his position so that their formation wouldn't be so awkward. 'What the fuck is happening right now? Why is this man embracing me like this?' John asked himself, rubbing circles into the mid of Paul's backside. 

"I'm sorry for um throwing a tantrum. I have a lot of things on my mind, and you're the only one who hasn't left me here alone." Paul pulled away a bit, much to John's appreciation, and stared up at the other man with thankfulness that warmed John's heart. 

Once again, the young look on the other's face struck John hard. "You're alright k- um fuck Paul."

Paul seemed visibly comfortable with the other man, and John couldn't help but to notice how tightly he clung into him. "Are you from Liverpool?"

"Born and raised, you?" 

"I was just born and raised there for half of my childhood, then suddenly I live in a big mansion for the rest of my life." 

John blinked, not sure if he should let his guard down all the way. "Uh yeah, I wish I could live in a mansion."

"You're not missing anything."

•••


	5. Chapter 5

At the lounge room, Richard peeked his head out and watched closely as the infamous man in a eye catching silver suit, expensive black leather 'Edward Green' branded shoes, with its impeccable dover split toe. A light grey fedora was placed on his head, a long silky transparent feather placed at the right side of the hat. Richard gawked shamelessly at the several rings placed on each hand, sparkling different colored beauties blinding everyone's eye and a possible fourteen carat chain hung from the man's neck that read. "Jimmy's Chocolate Factory,"

'So this is Jim Mccartney?' Richard thought to himself, before exhaling and mentally comforting himself as he walked over towards the man who waited near the front desk. Almost everyone was staring at him, not usually used to seeing someone that resembled a pimp daddy. Brian even peeked his head out, sick child in his arms and eyes widening at the extraordinarily wealthy man that just walked in. 

"I want to see my son, James Paul Mccartney and his assistant." Jim's voice said, Richard quickly noticed that his voice was a bit posh with a sprinkle of Scouse. 

Cynthia loomed her eyes from the computer, staring up at Jim a bit fearfully from the literal cash aroma flowing out. "Uh- okay, but John is in a meeting someone right now but I'll give you Paul's room number." 

Jim shook his head, and crossed his arms whilst staring down at her intently. "No."

Cynthia looked over at Richard for desperate help, simply not knowing what else to do. Richard nodded understandingly towards Cynthia, and tapped on Jim's shoulder which made the man turn around swiftly.

Richard uneasily bit the inside of his mouth, formulating the best words he could dig up and began to speak. "James will be available within a few minutes sir, I promise you that, you can wait in the waiting room until then." 

After several intense seconds, Jim turned around and walked back to wherever he came from. Brian immediately emerged from his office, and raced towards both Cynthia and Richard. The anxious expression sheltered upon his face was memorable for both of employees. "Was that Jim Mccartney?"

In unison, both Richard and Cynthia uttered a rather soft; "Yes." 

Brian threaded his fingers through his hair, "Right. I did not know he was going to show up today. The richest man in town." 

Richard has only blinked, and casually scratched at the bridge of his prodigious neb. "Why do we have to treat him like he's part of the royal family?" 

Cynthia rapped her pen against the notebook she was writing in as Richard and Brian quarreled civilly about the importance of Jim Mccartney. While she skimmed around, she locked her eyes onto John who was peeking out from the hallway door and motioning her aggressively to follow him. The blonde haired beauty blinked for a few seconds, and quickly stood up from her chair. 

Cynthia smiled kindly at both Richard and Brian, as she awkwardly penguin walked herself from behind the desk. "Excuse me for a few minutes." 

John watched keenly at the way Cynthia would sway her hips gently as she walked towards him. If he had a choice between her and Paul, he'd most definitely chose both. For the record, he'd have them working for him as nude servants while vacationing privately at a beach somewhere in Tenerife, Spain. Paul would probably not be up for walking around nude though, so he tried to imagine Cynthia.

"What is it Doctor?"

John jumped out of his perverted thoughts, and then laughed as he ran his palm down his face drearily. "Please call me John."

Cynthia smirked, and crossed her arms as she looked up earnestly at the taller individual. "I'd only call you the J-word if we're not at work." 

John dramatically snapped his fingers, "Oh man." 

Cynthia's giggle was angelic, "No but seriously, I have to go back soon and deal with Brian." She said, folding her hands in front of her while shifting her weight to her other leg. 

"Paul talked my bloody head off. Right now he's eating, and I'm on break so I'm bored." John said, while stepping closer to Cynthia which made her almost immediately back up. "I was thinking that you could keep me company." 

She raised a brow. "Is this another scheme of yours?" 

John shook his head, "Let's go and get lunch."

"No- see John, now what did I just say? I can't right now." 

"So any other time you could?" 

Cynthia stared impassively at John, and then a forcefully dazzled laugh left her lips. "No John, when a woman gives you a chance just for you to blow it up in her face, you're never getting that chance again." 

"John!" 

They both looked up at Brian heading towards the two, Richard smiling at John apologetically and Jim was marching along the side of the man. John's eyes widened, eyes glueing onto the infamous chocolate factory chain that almost blinded his pupils just from the light beaming down on the glistening jewel. 

John blinked, and uttered a breathless. "Jesus fuck he's dripping literal cash." 

Cynthia and Richard gave him the; I-told-you-so face and stepped back as Brian approached the younger auburn haired man. "Just the man we was looking for. This is Jim Mccartney. This strong man here is, James' wonderful, impactful, inspiring, gracious father." 

John nevertheless snapped out of his enhanced infatuation towards the elder man. "Don't drag it out Brian, you just met him." 

Brian's face immediately dropped, and Jim only stared observantly at the quivering doctor. John cleared his throat, and pressed his hand against the door to push it back open so that everyone could walk through it. "Paul's on the third floor." 

The elevator ride was as awkward as meeting your in-law's for the first time. Elvis' song, 'Can't Help Falling in Love,' blasted through the worn down elevator speaker. 

"Is James in a private room?" Jim suddenly asked, causing Richard, John, Brian and Cynthia to jump from the sudden knife piercing the thick silence. 

"Yes." Brian replied before anyone else could. John fidgeted, eyes bounding around nervously as he wondered what mental condition Paul was in as the seconds rolled on by like tumbleweed. 

•••

Paul's body shook uncontrollably, and his limbs began feeling heavier than they should have. Paul was bundled up in thick white hospital blankets, eyes wide and a bit bloodshot as he tried to conjure himself desperately. The cold temperature that blanketed the room was taking a toll on him, but right now that was the last complaint in his mind. 

Paul's legs abruptly shifted, after awhile he noticed his breath was coming out shaking and labored while he clenched the sheets hard into his hands. After closing his eyes tightly, Paul let out a strangled frustrated wail at his own loss of self control. 

He jumped when the door opened, and his father entered with grief stricken on his face. John, Richard, Cynthia and Brian trickled in behind him; to Paul's surprise he was more relaxed in seeing John come inside of his room. 

"James?" Jim asked, heading over towards the trembling man who was beginning to have spasms on the bed. 

Both John and Brian has exchanged concerned stares with each other. For Richard, this would be the first time he had properly seen Paul and to his surprise John was right about his appearance. Richard thought that Paul was an overweight snob, with traditional snobby clothes with ugly green socks that run up to the knees. 

"Would you like some privacy?" Cynthia asked, as Jim took a seat in the chair next to the bed and held onto Paul's upper arm. 

"Yes please." 

Paul took in some air, and sniffed. "Can John stay?"

John's stomach had suddenly dropped, and he let out a mumbled curse word. "Fuck me." 

———

"Major condolences have been sent to you from everywhere James." Jim announced, with his hands folded behind his back and his eyes gleaming with unfathomable pools of emotion. 

"What's the bloody point? It's not like any of them are going to make her come back." 

John flipped the pages in the magazine as if he was actually reading into them deeply, just to cope with the uncomfortable feeling that washed over him. Why did Paul make him stay? Especially if they're going to talk about this, and leave John with no room to put in whatever he thought. 

Jim turned around towards his son, who was sitting upright with an angered expression on his face. "You can't hate the world because of her death, it was beyond anyone contro-"

"It was in my fucking control!" Paul immediately lashed out, which made John's eyes peek up nosily from the magazine to observe the outburst. 

Jim stared a bit bewildered at Paul, unfamiliar with the sudden rush of anger that could easily be triggered. From his point of view, Paul would have to be consistently provoked to actually lash out on someone. 

John and Jim unwillingly witnessed Paul having a breakdown in front of their eyes. "I was driving! I-I took off the fucking locket! I threatened her! I made us crash the fucking car!" 

Jim was genuinely concerned, as he swallowed down a hard anxious knot formed in his throat. "James calm down.."

John had thought that this was a good time to close the magazine, placing it down gently onto the side. The tension in the room was fulfilling, and he felt it unmistakably. 

"Stop calling me James! It's Paul!" With that, Paul picked up a vase sent to him earlier and thrashed it towards Jim's direction. 

John took this as the opportunity to get up, and briskly move a startled Jim out of the way once the vase had struck the window. The impact of course made the window glass break, sending both the case glass and the window glass spiraling down across the floor. John looked genuinely frightened, looking upwards at Paul who looked just as lost as everyone else. 

———

"Mind if I borrow one?" 

George exhaled the cigarette smoke and turned his head towards John who was visibly shaking. "Woah, are you alright? What happened?" 

"Seen some shit." 

George blinked, and took out his pack of cigarettes, slowly removing one for John. John let his teeth chatter as he tried to calm himself down, and desperately get his mind together.

"How did you know I was up here?" George had then asked, as he leaned himself against the ledge corner of the rooftop. 

"I would watch you sneak off somewhere. So I followed you this time." John said, his voice a bit muffled, trying to keep the cigarette dangling off of the corner of his mouth. After digging distractedly into his coat pocket, John took out a lighter and began lighting up the end of the cigarette with trembling hands. 

George had only seen John shook up like this a few times, each time he was left out of things to do. The only thing he attempted to do was bring up another subject to try and part John's mind into two. 

"Paul almost killed his father." 

George's eyes widened for a brief second, and he looked over at John who was just as bridled. 

“Oh.”

•••


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Best family begins to act on the gruesome death of Pete Best. — Son of a mafia leader.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah so yesterday’s updates were a failure, but this may be the last update on this book for awhile. i have to finish Amaranthine & Pristine.

"What was the license plate?"

Snapping back into reality — Archie blinked, his eyes widening a bit as he tightened his grip on the coroner files of Pete Best that he got earlier. "Oh, I don't know. The cops got ahold of that." 

Cigar smoke rose to the ceiling, the dull lighting of the conference room made the clear smoke seem more sinister. A blood red pool table stood in front of two men, dressed in tight business suits while the room was occupied with several other stocky and intimidating figures. 

Rory Best leaned down, cigar held protectively between his hands as he held the billard cue pool stick, aiming for the targeted ball. "Pete wasn't always the best driver y'know?" 

Archie nodded nervously, sweat trickling down his neck as his eyes bounded across the room at the different men. "Uh- yeah, yeah."

"That's not an excuse for him to be killed though, isn't it Archie?" Rory jabbed the cue stick towards the ball, watching intently at the way said ball rolled across the red carpet-like cloth.

"No." Archie whimpered, having a tingly feeling that the several bulky men had stepped one centimeter closer to his small, and quivering form. 

Rory clicked his tongue, signaling one of the men to approach him. Tapping his cigar onto the ashtray, and placing it back onto the corner of his mouth, Rory sighed, clearly irritated. 

His silver eyes pierced dangerously into Archie's green ones, and as his suit jacket was taken gingerly off of him which left him in his vest and a tie, Rory placed the cue stick over towards the same man. Afterwards, as the tension began to grow worse, Rory strolled over towards Archie which made the other man quiver violently. 

Taking the cigar from his mouth, Rory blew smoke into poor Archie's face rendering a cough and grasped the man by his collar pulling him uncomfortably close with his right hand. "Speak up Archie, I can't hear you."

"I said no sir." Archie said breathlessly, eyes widening with actual fear as he stared up at the powerful man. 

"No one deserved to die in that car accident." Rory announced as he dismissively pushed Archie away, having the young man stumble back a bit. "Although, I am going to miss my brother very much so. Cried like a bitch when I got the call that he was dead."

Archie leaned up straight, and stammered a bit before speaking softly. "I'm sorry for your loss Rory." 

Rory stomped his cigar out on the black carpeted floor. "Only person that's going to be sorry, is the bloke that ran into him." 

After the sentence sunk in, Archie couldn't stop himself even if he wanted to. "But R-Rory, Pete was the one that rammed into-" 

Rory whisked around, and punched Archie across the face which sent the smaller man spiraling down onto the floor with a shocked and pained squeal. Rory walked over to him, lifted the man up by his light brown curls and made Archie face him forcefully. The fear in Archie's eyes sent an overpowering wave of narcissism down Rory's spine. "Are you blaming my brother of his own fucking death?!" 

One of the bulky men who was holding onto Rory's suit jacket, a guy named Mal Evans watched in genuine fear of what Rory was going to do to the obviously frightened young man. Just by the looks of it, Archie nose was clearly broken from the hard punch to the face. 

Archie began to sob unashamedly as Rory lifted him up by his lapel, "Answer me now!" 

"Rory pleas-" Archie was cut off by Rory raising his fists again, which made the fear get shoved down his throat, choking him and causing him to momentarily flinch at nothing. 

The door opened. 

"Rory? You have a call." Eleanor Rigby, whom was dressed in a flannel red mini skirt with a deep red blouse with a light red cravat wrapped around her neck and pinned up pigtails of her lavish blonde hair. Rory's girlfriend, has arrived. 

“Can't you see I'm busy here?" Rory sneered, as he tightened his grip on Archie who only squeaked in fear. The noise made a few of the bulky men laugh, adding more embarrassment to Archie. 

"Well, it may be important. Like I don't know..your parents may be? Their first son just died in a car accident for Godsake." 

Rory groaned, dropping Archie on the floor and standing up to approach his girlfriend. "Don't ever interrupt me again." He said, swiping the phone harshly from within her hands and it caused her to gasp at the disrespectful motion. "Hey Mal! Take Archie somewhere away from here will you?" 

Mal nodded, and walked towards Rory to hand him his jacket. Rory took it from Mal, already conversing with his parents as he walked away from the room and up the stairs with Eleanor following closely behind him. 

"Hello pap?"

"Hey son, how are you doing? Your mum's not here right now. She's off cooking." Donald Peter Scanland had said, walking around the backyard of his mob boss mansion he purchased a couple of years back. 

"Tryna find the man that killed my brother." Rory answered, as he took a glass of wine off of the large metal plate one of the tight-bikini wearing waitresses offered to Rory. 

Eleanor passed by her, gifting her a mean expression as she snatched a wine glass off of the plate as well. Once both of them were out of sight, the bikini waitress returned the killer stare to the back of Eleanor's head. 

"Really now?" 

"Yeah, I don't give a fuck who it is. They're going to get what's coming." 

Donald lowered his sunglasses, and sat down by the poolside with his feet dangled into the water. "Son, I think I know who did it but I may need a backup on this one."

Rory almost choked on his alcoholic beverage, and his eyebrows shot up. "What? How?"

"Son, I was in the mafia, I still have connections to this day. But all I got is that he's from the Mccartney family, that nasty ass billionaire chocolate family." 

Rory listened intently, letting everything sink in. "I fucking hate chocolate."

"Especially their chocolate, it's all good and sweet like nothing has to be that good and sweet." 

Rory snorted, and took another sip of his wine as he continued to stroll over towards his personal library, his favorite part of his small mansion. "They try to make themselves look good and sweet, like their sweet and good fucking chocolate."

"Now that I'm thinking about it, I want their chocolate so I can taste how good and sweet it is. Just so I can shit on how good and sweet it is." 

Rory licked his lips, thinking about that good and sweet chocolate. "Yeah me too." 

"I'll call you back I'm heading to the store." 

"Me too." 

•••

“Hi there, my name is Archie and I- I kind of hit my face upon the door. I broke my nose too, I was wondering if I could get stitches?” Archie stammered, fidgeting in the hospital bed as he ran his palm anxiously against his thighs. 

Lyle stared concerned at the boy, and jotted down everything he had said, along with his sudden fidgeting. “It looks very bad. You may need an x ray so we can make sure that was it.” 

“An X-ray?” Archie shakily queried, green eyes widening at the thought. 

Mal stood silently next to Archie, sighing audibly as he tried to think of a quick way to get this boy out of trouble with Rory. To get both of them out of trouble with Rory, the son of a former mafia leader. 

Lyle nodded, putting on a kind smile. “It won’t be gruelly, it’ll be fine if you just relax enough.” 

The room door suddenly opened which made Archie jump a bit, until he was relaxed from Mal’s protective hand on his shoulder. John walked inside casually, hands in his pockets and face dreary from all that had happened to him today. “Mind cleaning up the glass in Paul’s room? I’m about to take off.” 

“I- but John I’m in the middle of something.”

John lazily glanced over towards an awkwardly uncomfortable Mal and Archie. He blinked, sighed and then turned to face Lyle again. “Listen redhead, I’m tired and I had to have an awkward conversation with Jim fucking Mccartney after his own son almost threw a vase at his bloody head. What did you do today?”

Lyle stares questionably at John, and Archie’s blood froze at the sound of Jim Mccartney’s name leaving John’s mouth. 

“Excuse me for interrupting, but did you just say Jim Mccartney?” 

John looked over at Archie, and mugged him suspiciously. “And if I did?”

Mal clenched his jaw at John, and Lyle only stood in awkward confusion at everything that was unfolding. 

Archie blushed in self-embarrassment, “No, I don’t mean any harm by wondering but I just know that he’s the wealthiest man ever. Are you telling me his son? James Paul Mccartney is here?”

“Yeah, what’s it to you?” 

Archie tried to keep himself together under the intense and intimidating glare he was getting from John. After a few ping pong balls of questions running through his head, Archie prepared himself to ask just one. “Why was he admitted here?”

“A fatal car accident a week ago.” Lyle said, before John could even open his trap to take in a breath. 

Archie and Mal both exchanged knowing looks. 

John rolled his eyes, and turned back towards Lyle who was still denying the demand. “But anyways, Lyle I’ll give you twenty pounds, just please do this for me.”

“How do I know that he isn’t going to suffocate me with his pillow like he threatened to do to me after I called him James.” 

“I’m not telling you to wipe his bloody arse, just clean up his room. Ringo would help anyways.” 

“Fine.” Lyle waited impatiently as John proudly whipped out cash, placing it into Lyle’s palm before dismissing him off. 

“I hope your nose gets fixed pinocchio.” John said, taking one final glance at Archie before leaving the hospital room. 

•••


	7. Chapter 7

"Cyn? What the hell are you doing here at this ungodly hour?" John asked, sleepily examining Cynthia's outerwear as the rain down poured harshly onto the pavement outside.

"John, I have something on Pete." Cynthia said, moving strands of her blonde and wet hair behind her ear as she spoke. "May I come in?"

John nodded, stepping aside to let the poor girl in. What was she doing here so late at night? Especially in the rain, which was even more weird for Cynthia Powell out of everyone to do.

"Pete? Pete Best?"

"Yes." Cynthia said, as she glanced around John's flat for a few excruciatingly judgmental minutes.

Afterwards, she rushed towards the couch and sat down on it pulling her bag with her that held different envelopes of paperwork and documents. Quickly, the young woman began to place each folder of paperwork onto the coffee table and it only took a few minutes for John to notice she was shivering. So as Cynthia began to prepare each paperwork onto the table, John turned his heat on and made his way to the kitchen to fix him a cup of tea.

"So basically, he was the son of a retired Mafia leader and his records show that he wasn't exactly born in England."

John almost burnt himself, shielding his hand away from the flames of his gas stove. "Mafia?" He called out, before glancing down startled at the purring Bengal breed cat brushing its tail against his leg.

"Yes, I know right? This is completely concerning!" Cynthia stressed, which made John chuckle to himself as he got the teabags needed and began to seek out the teacups.

"How so?"

There was a silence, and then heavy footsteps from Cynthia leading into the kitchen which made John snort. "What do you mean how so?"

"He's retired, what's he going to do? Plus, no one was murdered."

Cynthia simply couldn't believe how dense John was when it came to gang affiliations. "It doesn't matter John, when someone who's a relative of a gang — retired or not, get killed something bad is going to happen."

John was so tired, he honestly wasn't even mentally taking in anything else but the thought of eternal slumber. "How do you know?"

Cynthia blushed, and shrugged. "Watched enough movies." She got serious again, "No but that's what other gangs do, I had a friend that had a cousin who had a friend, that had a friend whose brother was in a gang."

"Interesting." John dryly replied, turning towards the stove again as he began to nonchalantly boil a pot without water in it.

"Oh, John!" Cynthia exclaimed, a drastic change in her mood as he bent down to pet three different breed of cats that was parked against her legs. "How many cats do you have?"

John was in the middle of a mental argument himself, indecisive on whether if he should spit out something like; “You came to my flat to talk about how many cats I have?” But Cynthia was too preciously sacred for him to lash out on her like that. _Yet._

"Oh uh- I don't know." John scratches his head, and thought about it. "Ten? Or nine, probably. I have to count, but they keep getting lost and shit."

"I never knew you loved cats John, they're so adorable." Cynthia smiled, and giggled as they purred, rubbing against her wet jacket.

John was zoned out, as he began to tear into the tea packet. "Wait, I'm doing this wrong. Cynthia do you know how to make tea?"

"Huh?" Cynthia looked up at John, rising off of the floor and watching in horror as the man began to casually put the packet into the waterless pot. "Oh God John, that's not how you make the tea! I got it, I got it."

John ventured out, cat in his arm while he walked over towards the table covered with papers about Pete Best's history. This was more than he bargained for really, and he felt like he was more of a police detective than a skilled doctor. A soft meow shook him back into reality, and he glanced at his European short haired kitten expectantly. The animal looked back at him, eyes wide and pupils blown in curiosity. For some reason, the kitten reminded him specifically of Paul.

He tilted his head, and the kitten meowed again before yawning adorably. "Now I know what to name you." John began, and smiled as the kitten made a another meow or squeak. "Paul."

The kitten seemed to like that, opening it's closed eyes to look up at John.

John doesn't know why he named the kitten Paul, he doesn't know why the sudden thought of Paul occurred in his head just by a single kitten. Maybe it was just because Paul's been racing around in his head a lot lately, that poor, poor man.

John put Paul the kitten down on top of the coffee table as he sat down on the couch, grasping at the pieces of paper laid upon the side of it. Paul sniffed around a few times, and softly moved around the papers with its head down before approaching the end of the table, jumping upon the couch.

Half of this stuff was regular information he already dug up in the hospital. Until he ran into Rory Best. John held the paper close to him, witnessing how many victims lives him and his gang had took. Hopefully the gang wasn't active, which was a 50/50 possibility that they might have been. John cleared his throat, and read on more about Rory noting that he was undercover, no other action has been provoked by him during the course of this year.

Bullocks.

John doubted that Paul was in actual danger, why would he be in danger? He had no control over the death of Pete, and it certainly wasn't his fault.

"John the tea is ready!" Cynthia called out, popping in with a round plate that had cups of hot fresh tea.

"Thanks." John said, as he gently took the saucer and teacup into his grasp. "I don't get it Cynthia, it wasn't Paul's fault." The kitten darted its eyes up at the name that was called out. "The car went out of control on its own."

Cynthia shrugged, "There's no way of getting to them, once someone violates one of their people. It's over."

"Paul's targeted then." John said, suddenly all of the sleepiness washed away from him and it was replaced with a sudden wave of irrational anger. "I didn't sign up for this shit."

Cynthia placed a hand on his chest, "None of us did." She said softly, almost motherly which caused a tightened feeling of more conflict to wash over John. "Let's not tell anyone this, but we may have to keep more of an eye out on who visits Paul or not."

The kitten named Paul meowed again at the sound of its name.

John took a sip of his tea, nodding silently as he avoided Cynthia's gaze. Instead he watched one of his black cats silently, and prestigiously stroll along the ledge above his fireplace. 

•••

"What a deathly day." Richard said, leaning against the front desk as John signed in. "It's been storming all night, surprised it hasn't flooded."

John unattractively snorted, closing the sign-in booklet as he grasped at his energy drink. "Yeah, me too."

Richard pretended to sweep the floor as Brian hurriedly passed by, racing into his office without greeting anyone. John had just watched Brian closely, wanting to figure out why his boss was darting away from anyone filed of vision.

For some reason, he felt as if he knew the answer to the question.

"Wonder what's up his arse."

John shrugged, "Probably a lot of things, I don't know in particular but there's a lot of stuff going on that hasn't been normal."

"What do you mean? With Paul?" Richard queried, arching his brow at John. "What happened with him now?"

John swallowed down some anxiety, and took a sip of his energy drink as he worked up a realistic John Lennon answer. "Not just Paul you know, could be another patient perhaps..something of the sort." John was now mumbling the other half of his sentence, which caused Richard to stare at him in growing confusion.

"What?" Richard asked, he had never seen John so backwards, in different cases he had but not like this.

John blatantly dismissed the subject, by shrugging ultimately. As he passed Richard to go towards the elevator into the third floor, someone grasped at his forearm and it made him whisk around frightfully at the sudden grip.

Facing him was George who was snickering at John's scared reaction. "Morning Lennon."

"Piss off." John spat, snatching his arm away from his friend's grasp as George bent over and heavedup laughter like he was a full blooded hyena.

"Where are you off to?" George asked after gathering himself from the hysterical laughter that he went through over forty five seconds.

"To Paul's."

"They changed his room, he's on the second floor now in recovery since his condition improved over night." George informed, which made John shift his weight on his other leg and cross his arms in interest. "I mean it has, physically, I don't know about mentally. He's quiet, more responsive and kind? Apparently to the nurse."

John held his hand up to his lips in thought, "Odd."

George nodded, before gasping as another piece of information entered his head. "Nurse Maureen told me that Brian said you don't have to watch over Paul anymore since his condition approved over the point where he had to get medical assistance."

John's heart skipped dangerously.

•••

Paul's eyes popped open. Bedroom presented, looking quite the same, but clearly it was not in his own home.

How ginormous the bedroom is made it clear, the young male sat up and rested his palm against his forehead, eyes adjusting to the setting he had been placed in. Paul had furiously clambered out of his bedroom, and slid on the slippers that had always been set to the side of the king sized bed.

Stretching in his white, and oversized night gown, Paul had started over across the bedroom. What was he doing here? Did they release him? Paul furrowed his eyebrows at the thought, opening the door to his room and proceeding quietly, a bit curiously down the hallway that had different candles of light hooked up on the ceiling.

Paul hadn't particularly remembered this attribute to the Mccartney-mansion, and it immediately stunned him.

"Paul?"

The hair in the back of Paul's neck began to rise, and his cheeks flushed immediately at the familiarity of the gentle tone. Jane. Paul had suddenly ventured faster down the stairs, chest beginning to tighten with trains of emotions barreling through his body.

Once he was finally down the stairs, Paul's eyes widened as big as saucers as he witnessed the living room become enveloped in a horrendous fire that spiraled all the way up to the ceiling. The stairs he was still plotted on morphed into a slide, and he was slipping effortlessly into the burning lake of fire. He couldn't scream even if he wanted to, conscious that smoke could drain out his lungs and give them irreversible damage. Instead, Paul tried his best to keep his mouth closed and breathing sharp as he fell forwards onto the hot floor.

Looking up ahead, he witnessed the fire growing bigger and Jane calling out his name grew more scared, confused and sad. Paul held himself up, using both knees and both hands as he tried to congregate whatever was happening. 'Where was she?' Paul asked himself, heart beating fearfully in his ears vaguely resembling African drums.

Paul lurched forwards and violently coughed, from the smoke somehow jerking into his line of breathing anyways. "Jane!" Paul shouted, standing up onto his feet.

Looking over his shoulder, Paul began to feel panic rising in his throat as another fire began to form behind him. Quickly, he looked back and began to carefully ease himself through the more opened parts, still just as hot enough to have his being burnt alive.

"Paul help!"

Jane's warped voice sounded like a slowdown music box, getting slower and slower by the moment until it finally stopped.

Paul found himself being burnt alive, clothes shedding off of his skin as he continued to fight his way through the fire. "Hold on Jane!" Paul heard himself say, but the way his voice sounded was definitely not his. His voice was warped as well.

Suddenly the ceiling collapsed onto him, crushing his body onto the floor where fire began to surround him like flies.

Jane was in front of him. Wearing a white night gown that resembled Paul's, and she looked absolutely the same way she did in the car crash. Paul's breath caught in his throat, his eyes widened in genuine horror at the gushing sight of the young woman.

"Paul, what did you do to me? This is your fault!"

Paul's eyes brimmed with different emotions, the first one was terror. This was not Jane, this definitely was not Jane. "J-Jane?"

"This is your fault!" She kept chanting, and chanting until she began to morph into something. Someone.

Paul squeezed his eyes closed, attempting to turn his head away from the scene, but he felt a hand grip his head which made him gasp in some more toxic smoke. His head turned back to Jane, or so he thought, instead he was facing his gaunt looking mother. Paul tried to scream, but a fiery hot hand covered his mouth as his hair began to become pulled from the hand on his head.

"This is your fault." Mother Mary said, voice demonic and her pupils in a scary slit.

———

Paul jolted up, body cold and sweat prodding his skin which made him shudder. His eyes skimmed around the room for a bit, ignoring the presence of Lyle whom was staring at him as if he had three heads.

Paul's head was spinning, he didn't even remember the moments leading up to his nightmare, not even when he fell asleep. John was nowhere to be seen, causing him to be in even more panic of what was happening, he was sure that John was nearby. Paul wasn't sure why he was sure that he was sure John was nearby, — but nevertheless he was just sure.

Paul watched as Lyle continued his sweeping, and whistling gracefully, Paul decided to shove himself up despite the headache clouding his head to the back of his head and not ask about it. "Where's John?"

"Doctor John?"

Paul stared at him until Lyle suddenly jumped back into work out of fear, and then the younger one had shrugged, "Wouldn't it be his last name if you refer to him as doctor?"

Lyle nodded, glancing cautiously towards Paul as he swept. "Yes, but we don't do that around here for some reason."

Paul figured that he wouldn't make much more use talking to this man, so he moved himself towards the window, only noticing that the glass was fixed? Last time he was awake, he remembered the glass of a window being completely broken. Paul opened the window carefully, exhaling in pure exhaustion at the use of strength he had to put in. The crisp air was just now noticeable to him, the wind was calling his name and so were the honks of cars along the crowded street. Pedestrians talking, different sounds echoing along the town, the thought of jumping had once again entered his mind. What would Jane think? She'd probably be disgusted of Paul having such malicious thoughts to end his life when he could have anything and everything he ever wanted.

Paul gritted his teeth, trying to forget Jane. Trying to come to terms that she's not here anymore. One day, the man would have to move on and find another bird to — John — wait what? Paul shook his head, grumbling something to himself as he moved away from the window.

Why is he having thoughts about wedding John? What was going on in his head? First the dream, then the thought of marrying the doctor that was trying to nurse him back to sanity.

That wouldn’t be so bad after all. 

Paul felt nauseous all of a sudden, and he turned towards Lyle who was sweeping up the last of the dirt and particles on the floor. "Can I walk around? Or is that not allowed."

"A doctor should be with you."

"Well can you do it?"

Lyle gulped, "No."

Paul had began tonarrow his eyes threateningly at the other man, and clenched his jaw harshly just as well as his fist. "Why not?"

Almost spontaneously,Lyle combusted out of the room, almost halfway colliding into the desired man Paul wanted to see. "John! Oh thank whose ever in the sky!" Lyle exclaimed, dramatically dropping down to kiss at the tip of John's shoes.

"Hello to you too." John narrowed his eyes as he stared down at Lyle, each day everything just seems to get more interesting in this world. "What's wrong with you?"

"I had to watch Jame- Paul until you came back. He says he wants to roam the hospital."

John arched a brow, and slowly pulled his leg away from Lyle as he raised his head up in thought. "Is that so? I got him, don't worry."

As he said this ever so confidently, walking inside of the hospital room, John was definitely not expecting to see Paul hunched forward with his face buried in his hands. John thought-out ignorantly that Paul was alright, and he was back to whatever type of normal he was before this whole charade happened.

John closed the door behind him, causing Paul to stiffen and raise his head up. “John?” The younger man called out softly, which took John aback. John parted his lips to speak but Paul was already excited, ready to bound off of the bed on. “John! I missed you! I thought I was going to kill the other guy!”

John lightly chuckled, sort of surprised by Paul’s enthusiasm. “Really? I’m sure Lyle isn’t that bad.”

Paul shrugged, unable to hide the smile forming on his face. John had suddenly thought of his kitten as Paul gazed wondrously at him, simply waiting for something else for John to say. “You seem happy.”

“I’m not.”

“Oh.” John awkwardly cleared his throat, “So you want to walk around I here? I can take you around.”

Paul beamed, and John fucking blushed at the sight of it. John never blushes. Maybe it was something in the energy drink, or something in Paul’s medication that had the two of them acting so..unique this morning. As John walked over to Paul, helping him out of bed he couldn’t help but to sigh at the warmth of the younger man and become more protective.

Hopefully he wasn’t targeted. Or even worse, his whole family in danger just because of this one car accident. John analyzed Paul a bit more, the seeping appearance of shock slowly wearing away but it was still obvious that he seen some shit that he wasn’t supposed to.

“I have to share something with you anyways.” John lately added, winging his arm around Paul’s who held on cooperatively. “It’s be better if we walk and do it though.”

“What could it be?”

“It’s a bit much, and I think you deserve to know.”


	8. Chapter 8

_'Violence is one of the most fun things to watch.' -Quentin Tarantino._

Rory let the toxic air of smoke exit through his lips, head slanted to the side curiously as he stared up into the grey clouds above. Life was weird, especially the middle of it. What could you do if it was temporary, then you'd have to start over, and over, and over again. Everything was pointless.

Rory eventually exhaled and licked his lips, making them moist again before he took another drag of his cigarette. Opening his eyes, he glanced around at the different security guards dressed up in coats, still providing him protection — disregarding the down pouring rain they were all enveloped in.

Rory heard distinct sounds of footsteps, heavy breathing and his name being called in the distance. The man sat up in his pool chair, watching closely as Archie ran towards him with a bandage placed on the bridge of his nose and an umbrella placed in his left hand as well. "Rory sir! What are you doing out here?! It's storming!"

Rory arched a brow, and winged both legs off of the chair. "Obviously, and the rain is calming. Like a shower but you're not naked." He zoned out for a bit, before going back to glaring at poor Archie who was shivering in the little warmth of clothes. "Why are you here? Did you find some more stuff?"

"Oh yes, but I also wanted to let you know that Pete's funeral was today. Earlier this evening."

Rory huffed, and stood up to stare up at the grey clouds."I know. Funerals are pointless, that's why I never attend any. Now get to it."

"Well- Iknow where Paul is now. The hospital I went to for my nose is the same hospital Paul is admitted in. I believe he's there now." Archie skillfully informed, feeling pride swelling passionately in his chest, knowing that it would make Rory deliciously happy to hear the news.

"Who the fuck is Paul?" Rory asked, confused with whatever Rory was pulling out of his ass. "What are you talking about?"

Archie blinked, tilting his umbrella forward to hide both him and Rory from the pelting rain. "The bloke that apparently hit Pete name is James Paul- well in the hospital his doctors were talking about him while they were treating me. You can even ask Mal."

Rory only exhaled, beginning to narrow his eyes in thought, and raise a hand to his mouth as he looked ahead.

"James Paul Mccartney Rory." Archie tried not to roll his eyes, "I'm pretty sure you should have known before."

"James Paul..Mccartne- Mccartney?" All of a sudden several different realizations struck him, plus the conversation with his father. "What hospital?"

Archie fidgeted, trying desperately to remember the hospital name. "It was uh- The Walton Centre I believe. Yeah, that was it."

Rory shot all the way up, putting out his cigarette beforehand and grasping both of Archie's cheeks. "Thank you, thank you, thank you. I could kiss you right now." Rory pulled away, grasping at Archie's shoulders. "Lets go pay a visit."

Archie involuntarily winced, hopefully the visit won't seem too reckless.

Rory descended from the privacy of his condo, several bodyguards following after him, including Mal Evans. There was a sheer determination to see what this person; Paul looked like, their attitude and how they felt about the situation at hand. Even though it wouldn't matter at the end, Rory thought. He slung his jacket on, and exited into the black RV which would hold the capacity of all seven of his men. And most importantly himself.

•••

"Mafia?" Paul quipped, running a hand through his shaggy dark brown hair. "I didn't know there was Mafia's in England, or Mafia's that still exist."

John could basically hear the nervous heartbeat in Paul's chest. He was nervous too. Almost just as nervous as Paul had seemed to be, and it was utterly reasonable since basically a gang would or would not be after him.

John closed the door to a vacant office room they both had wandered in. "Story time." He said smartly, turning around to face Paul who was quietly sitting in one of the chairs. They were right, his condition has approved greatly, and it seemed as if John was finally getting to actually know Paul.

"So basically, when you crashed into Pete. That's what we named him. There was a gas leak, and the smoke from his own car suffocated him, there was no significant injuries to him. The thing is that he still died."

Paul quivered, nausea washing over him at the thought of being responsible of someone's death. It was as if the progress he made was suddenly being weighed down by this news. "Oh my God." He breathed, and began to hyperventilate. "I killed someone?" The way his voice betrayed his calming thoughts, coming out shaky and uneven.

John was quick to act, walking over towards Paul and pulling out a chair in front of him. He sat down across from the younger man, grasping at his cold hands and rubbing them to keep on the rising friction. "It's not your fault Paul, I know you're about to blame yourself but it really isn't. Pete was the one that directly crashed into you, and- and I mean if your car was stopped there was still a chance he would have hit you."

"What are you saying? That— it's his fault?" Paul asked, those beautiful irises wide with confusion and shock at what was pouring out of John's mouth.

John was hypnotized by Paul's pools of rich hazel colored eyes for a few seconds, but he eventually answered. "It's nobody's fault."

"Well it has to be someone's, and if it isn't anyone's it's mine. I'm- I'm the only one that survived anyways." Paul hiccuped, feeling tears deep shamelessly from his eyes. "I should be dead with them."

John squeezed Paul's hands, feeling the same immense amount of pressure and pain of losing everything too. Yet Paul's case was almost impossible to console, but John to his own surprise was doing it. "Don't say that. It's a miracle that you're even still alive, it was a bad crash that could have killed everyone. You were in critical condition when you first arrived here."

"Should have left me to die."

"Now, you know that no one would do that. You have people that love you, y'know? It'd be a real loss if you were gone Paul."

Paul shook his head, simply incapable of taking in John's kind words. "This is pity, you're just pitying me and that's why you're saying all of this. I bet you didn't even bat an eye when I was rushed here."

"I didn't, you were just a regular patient. You still are." John quickly replied, basically cutting the younger lad off from the last part of his sentence.

That seemed to cause Paul to retract his eyes over to John's, just now staring freely, silently into those hypnotic brown twinkling eyes.

John hadn't known what came over him when he said that, but the longer the uncomfortable silence situated between the two of them. The more Paul began to come to grips with what John had just said, before shunning out different emotions invading him. A few seconds passed by until Paul parted his lips, "John?"

John raised both of his eyebrows to let Paul know that he was listening.

"When I get released from this place, can we be friends? Like outside of the hospital?" Paul asked, much to John's surprise, the older man had thought Paul was going to scream at him.

"Why someone rich like you would want to be friends with me?"

"Because I feel so lonely now, and I wanna die." Paul simply replied, and shrugged as he added on. "I don't care if you're lower-class, I don't really care for those stereotypes anyways."

He feels so lonely, and he wants to die. John put that in his mental notes of things to write down with no context behind it. "Before we discuss any of that, let's get back on the topic of the Best family."

•••

Rory entered the building, flicking his pocket knife around in his hand as he walked towards the front desk. Several of his men parked behind him, and Archie was proudly glued next to Rory as he leaned against the desk.

The hospital staff all had glanced at each other skeptically, and swallowed thickly as the different bulky men began to spread out in the waiting room.

"Evening miss." Rory greeted, with a charming smile on his face. Cynthia took in a rather annoyed breath, glancing up bravely from her documents to Rory who stared down intently at her.

"Evening Rory."

George who had clean sheets folded on his arm was watching the encounter carefully from the hallway on the side. Richard was standing next to him, arms crossed and eyes focused on Rory whose presence was outright threatening.

The man was soaked, and he was basically dripping from the rain outside. Richard noted that Rory was not a bad looking fellow, he seemed fit, had a jawline and eyes that were glimmering with mischief. So this was the man that everyone was talking about, the brother of the late and obviously not great Pete Best.

"Paying a visit to see Paul Mccartney? James Paul McCartney, isn't that right Archie?" Rory asked, turning his head towards Archie's direction and nodded towards him as the other man beamed with a innocent head nod. 

Lyle who was resting in the corner almost fell on his ass, as he suddenly rushed over towards the two. "You're the kid that broke his nose, Archie is that it? You were with that big guy."

As Cynthia was quietly punching in the numbers to the hospital phone Paul and John was supposed to be in, Rory turned towards Lyle. "Who's your friend Archie?" He asked, getting close to poor Lyle who was shaking under his clothes. He knew who Rory was. What he didn't know, was that Archie was involved with him.

"He bandaged my nose the other day."

Meanwhile, John and Paul were rushing back to the room after an obnoxious ringing of the phone shattered their moment.

"Sweet fuck, who could it be?" John asked, annoyed and under his breath while he picked up the phone, holding it to his ear. "Hello?"

"John, he's here." Cynthia whispered, eyes meeting the back of Rory's head as him and Archie was talking to Lyle. "Rory's here now, he wants to see Paul."

John eyes expanded, quickly catching Paul's attention which made him very uneasy. "God."

Paul blinked, curious at whomever was on the other line talking to John. "Who is that?"

John held up his hand at Paul, "What does he want with him? What- is he here with people?"

"Yes." Cynthia replied, and began to tap her foot nervously onto the floor. "Like different men."

John exhaled, mentally preparing himself for the events that may spiral on today.

•••


	9. Chapter 9

A slam of John's fist immensely rattled every accessory mounted upon Brian's desk. "Now Brian, we can't just let him in and see Paul. For the last time, does anyone know how a gang works?"

Brian chewed on the corner of his bottom lip, he wasn't used to being snapped at by John Lennon. Although, he definitely didn't mind it. Brian shrugged his shoulders, and slumped against the seat of his chair. "We can't just deny their request. It's not how it works John."

Urgency laced in her tone, Cynthia spoke up, "But this is very serious Mister Epstein."

Brian sighed, and moved papers out of the way just in time for John to plop down on his desk. "Explain to me what the issue is? Why is it any of our business. This Rory gentleman doesn't seem to be determined to prove any harm."

"Did you not see the dozens of bulky urchins just walk in? All huge and shit. Then Rory, an offspring of one of the biggest Mafia leaders in England, whose brother had died in a car crash with the son of the most richest entrepreneur in England, wants to suddenly visit him? Doesn't this seem a bit suspicious to you Eppy." John rambled, grasping a handful of marbles in a jar at the far end corner of Brian's desk.

The older man ran a hand through his hair, exhaling exhaustedly from the suspenseful theory John explained to him. "You have a very..sophisticated imagination Doctor Lennon."

Cynthia brung a strand of hair behind her ear. "It's true though, you see..I had a friend that had a cousin who had a friend, that had a frie-” She paused, and shook her head after realizing that both of the men were staring at her impatiently. “I knew somebody that knew someone was in a gang. They have absurd ways of working.”

“Listen, I don’t tolerate this gang nonsense. I doubt they’ll do something in this hospital. Just let them have their meeting, and if you both are so terribly paranoid. I’ll have some of the staff watch over the two as they talk.”

John’s reaction was almost hysterical in the human eye. “Or we could just not make them talk at all. Makes more sense right? You’ve got the picture.”

Brian narrowed his eyes at John, not feeling the patronizing tone of John’s voice. “John.”

“Brian.” John challenged, staring the older man directly into his eyes.

Cynthia sighed, “John let’s just take this strategy. Maybe we could prove it to Brian.”

•••

Paul in question was sitting poshly in a chair just inside of another office, it was one that was barely used by the staff unless a serious meeting was going on. Ringo and George were dragged out of their actual assignment to watch over him. A silent minute afterwards, Richard noticed that this was the first time that he had properly got to meet the young lad. "I'm Richard Starkey. My friends call me Ringo sometimes."

George looked thoughtfully over at Ringo for a bit, not knowing what came over the older man. Paul nodded his head, and made eye contact with Ringo. "I'm Paul Mccartney."

"I know." Ringo said as he smiled, it was that charismatic smile that drew people in.

Whether they disliked Ringo or not, the friendliest smile from the friendliest man would always have a significant effect on strangers.

George thought it would be less awkward if he introduced himself as well. "George Harrison."

"Are you guys friends with John?" Paul softly asked, finding it appropriate to bring it up since he watched as John basically forced the two men into the office.

"Yeah, he's a nice chap." George paused, and began to smile. "Whenever he wants to be y'know." He continued, smiling even more with a light blush from the low giggle he earned from Ringo.

Paul's eyes lazily ping-ponged back and forth from Ringo to George. "I have a question."

“What?” George and Ringo replied in unison to each other.

“Whatever happened to Jane’s body? Was she- was there a funeral?” Paul asked, he surprised himself for how casual he sounded. No essence of choking up on tears, or emotional weight were verbally or physically visible. To be honest he really hadn’t known if this was a good thing or a bad thing.

George cleared his throat, “See we um really don’t know. I mean she was rushed here, but I-” He exchanged a nervous glance over at Ringo who also shifted awkwardly. “I don’t know, I just handle the um the sheets and I wash them. John sometimes tells me to watch patients or find a doctor to help them. He could do that y’know, he’s very..yeah, he’s basically a chief doctor or something.”

Paul nodded his head, and slowly stretched his surprisingly long legs out under the table. “So you don’t know what happened to Jane? What about you Ringo?”

Ringo blinked, and scratched his arm. “I’m not sure what they did with her. I heard her family wanted her to be cremated.”

“Yeah they did.” Paul said distantly, “She wanted to donate one of her organs whenever she died.” He continued, yearning for that abyss that was always centered in his chest whenever he spoke about Janebut somehow it disappeared.

“I’m sorry about everything Paul.” George apologized, walking over towards the other man and pulling a chair up to him. Paul watched fondly as he sat across from him, and as George patted his knee gingerly. “Everything feels like hell I bet. No one should go through what you’re going through.”

Ringo made an obnoxious, “Mhm.” In truthful agreement, with a nod of his head.

“Somehow, its not as bad as it once was.” Paul tittered, his finger going up to his mouth so he could bite on his nails. A single handed habit he adopted ever since he was a child. “I don’t know why though. Guess the atmosphere of this place is getting to me.”

Ringo shrugged, “Never knew this shitty place could generate those type of effects.”

George had smiled, both at Paul’s revelation and Ringo’s witty comment. “Maybe it’s John.”

Paul’s face immediately went bright red. “What do you mean?”

“John watches over you right? So maybe it’s his antics that makes you feel better. He’s funny y’know?”

Paul thought about it, which caused his face to become more red with each passing second.

“Oh, John.” Ringo smiled at the thought of his best mate, and one of the two reasons why he hasn’t quit his job yet. “I wonder what he’s up to now, since he dragged us over here.”

•••

John walked through the double doors that lead into the waiting room, with Cynthia and Brian tailing behind him. He looked around for a minute mentally counting the dozens of men that had walked in. After a few minutes of observing the surroundings, and witnessing the fear in the staff members eyes. John had finally glanced over at Rory who was smoking carelessly with his arse planted on the receptionist desk.

“That’s him Rory, that’s the doctor that was with Lyle.” Archie immediately pointed out, tugging on Rory’s arm as he pointed his finger over towards John.

“This kid is like eighteen.” Cynthia said under her breath, looking over towards John expectantly.

“So you say. He’s the bloke that had his nose angled.” John mumbled, and glanced over at Brian who was staring intently at one of the men. Mal Evans.“Hey Brian, now do you see?”

Brian shook the intense eye-fucking away, and finally turned his attention back on John. “Yeah but-”

“Evening.” Rory cut the conversation short, exhaling smoke in John’s face as he stared at the man. “Been waiting here for fifteen minutes now, making conversation with this Lyle person. Where can I see Mister Mccartney?”

The other man narrowed his eyes and analyzed Rory for a bit. To be frank, John was slightly taken back from the fact that Rory was bold enough to blow cigarette into his face.

A very handsome devil Rory was, but there was a single scar under his eye. Teddy boy hair, yes that was it. John remembered when he was a teddy boy, there’s not much of a difference now. Clearly he was from Liverpool, Scouse accent about as strong as that sharp jawline. John hadn’t found him intimidating at all, not even with the impression of Rory blowing cigarette smoke into his face disrespectfully.

Since there was no intimidation present from either side, John slowly reached up and smoothly slid the cigarette out from in between Rory’s lips.

The movement startled everyone, and for a moment there Brian thought John was going to get beat into a pulp. The men took a few steps around both Rory and John, as John put the cigarette in between his lips, taking a drag from it as Rory stood there in shock. Afterwards, he pulled it out and smoothly, yet vengefully blew smoke out into Rory’s face as he pulled the cigarette away from his lips.

Rory immediately held up his hand to the men that were ready to pounce on John just from that infamous move. 

John had then dropped the cigarette on the floor, and stomped it out onto the tile. Eye contact extremely intense between the two men. 

Cynthia and Brian exchanged concern looks; mentally scared for John’s life. 

“This way.” John eventually said, turning around to lead the group of people down the hallway. Some type of adrenaline rushed through his blood, but he couldn’t even name it.

Cynthia hesitantly followed, with Brian creeping behind her with an unpleasant fear jumping in his abdomen. Maybe they were right. Archie followed beside Rory, and he looked closely at the smirk of impressment on Rory’s face as his eyes glared in the back of John’s head.

•••


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here’s a filler.

John noticed that Rory was whispering something into Archie’s ear. He hadn’t known what. Pretty sure it was something malicious that he should warn Brian about, but that seemed a bit too late since they were already stepping foot inside of the occupied room. 

There was an awkward silence. Well, to John. He watched as Paul stood up, genuinely uncomfortable as he began to creep backwards as far as possible from the gentlemen. Cynthia exchanges looks with Brian, a intent expression on her face as they locked eyes. Rory rubbed his hands together, and looked determinedly around at the dozen of bulky men that stood aside him for a couple of seconds. "Alright, I need everyone to step out." He announced, turning around to face John especially. "We need to talk."

"There's no way in hell-" John sharply began, but Brian immediately and civilly intervened before he could possibly worsen the situation everyone was in.

"Uh well, I'm not sure that we should actually leave you alone with the patient. It's not like we believe that you're available to do something dangerous, but it's just that it's common there could be at least one man in the room with a person and a patient."

Rory narrowed his eyes at Brian, who just became even more justifiable nervous. "When was that rule ever made?"

"A long time ago." George put in, causing everyone's attention to turn upon him. John gave his best mate a smile, in which George returned before continuing. "We stand by that rule. Sorry mate."

Rory rolled his eyes and dismissively waved his hand, "Alright great. All of my men could stay in here. Boom, case solved."

"Hospital staff, that's what we meant Rory." John's voice resounded in everyone's ears, voice low and dripping with aggression towards Rory.

"Fine. The blonde girl can stick around here then." Rory spat, before looming his glare over at Cynthia just to reassure himself. "And she better not interrupt anything." Rory added, as he turned around, slowly beginning to strip off his suit jacket.

John was tempted to breach protocol again, just by the unnerved look on Paul's face until Brian grasped at his forearm. "Alright, let's go John. We need to leave them alone." Brian announced, coaxing John to his best abilities to leave out of the room.

Archie has suddenly brushed past the both of them, and lingered his eyes onwards at John before completely exiting. George and Ringo accompanied John and Brian as they all had then walked out into the hallway.

Mal and Brian exchanged looks with each other, and it unfortunately made Rory catch onto it. "Aye Mal, why don't you go out there too? Keep the ladies company while we handle business in here."

Mal blinked his eyes, and cleared his throat nervously. Rory smirked and hid a small chuckle as Mal straightened his posture up more, "I'm alright Rory, I think they'll be fine."

Rory arched a brow and his eyes flared with something dangerous that sent chills down Mal's spine. "Oh yeah? You say that as if I give a shit. Now do as I say, and get the fuck out."

With that, Mal was already head over tit out of the room. Rory walked over towards the door, clicking the lock before finally turning his attention onto his target. Paul McCartney. As he walked away from the door, he began to notice that Cynthia was still there in the room with intense eyes locked onto his every movements, and within each second her presence would become more annoying to Rory.

Paul's wide eyes followed Rory's movements, not being able to get himself to twitch, fidget or move at all. Rory approached the younger male, purposely getting into a close proximity with him so he could properly analyze what he was dealing with.

Paul’s breath hitched, and he immediately snapped out of the frozen predicament his body became temporarily sheltered in. “Uh- hi, my name is Paul.”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” Rory muttered under his breath, his eyes flossing over Paul’s rare and almost breathtakingly good looks. “You’re the bloke that killed my brother. I’d thought you’d be more ugly, fat and downright scrubbish.”

One of the men straightened up when Rory whirled over towards his direction. “Are you telling me that this is Paul McCartney? The big bad rich boy.”

“I’m not like that.” Paul said calmly, he noticed how quickly he began to conjure up the confidence that had seemed too embedded in shock and confusion. “And I didn’t mean to kill your brother, nothing about the accident was purposeful.”

“Oh but you still did.” Rory said, snapping his fingers in a way that had his men beginning to move closer to the center of the room. “We got to find a way to deal with that, do we?” 

Paul gulped, glancing around himself as the men crept closer.

“Or maybe Pete just didn’t know how to drive.” Cynthia said, which had caused the whole room to sort of freeze for a cautious moment. “The only thing that killed Pete was the gas leak, he suffocated. That was it. Paul had technically nothing to do with his death. If anything, Pete had something to do with Jane’s death.”

“Look here bitch.” Rory started, catching Cynthia and Paul off guard by the vulgar comment. “The only reason why you’re here, is because that’s your hospital policy.” Rory backed the poor girl up against the wall as his anger continued to flare. “I told you to not interrupt a god damned thing. Then you go and do that anyway. Stay in a woman’s fucking place.”

The silent tsunami of sheer anger that washed over Cynthia was something she’d never experienced before. Clenching her fist, she looked down at her shoes with vast emotions rushing through her system. Rory smiled, patting the blonde’s head just to put emphasis on who had the power until Paul spoke up.

“Don’t call her that again. I don’t know you that well but you have no reason to disrespect her like that. Or any other woman, would you talk to your mom like that?” Paul spat, genuinely angry at what just unfolded in front of him. The few chuckles coming from the men almost sent him on edge as well. He hadn’t given a single fuck anymore, and he’d rather be in the grave condition he was a couple of weeks earlier than to see a woman get disrespected.

“Hated my mom son.” Rory came back with a halfway reply, “And I didn’t come all the way here to get into a discussion about women’s rights. I came here to retrieve something.”

Paul hadn’t noticed the men closing in behind him, and it was last minute when he finally did. Two of them grabbed him roughly, one strong arm winging around Paul’s neck to press a napkin of chloroform against his nose. Cynthia immediately jumped into action and sprung for the door, her jaw hinging open to scream out John’s name. Before she could do anything, another man was already handling her, roughly smacking her unconscious.

•••


End file.
